


Dance Again

by purplelacemoon



Category: Billary - Fandom, Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: F/M, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 15:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15777261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplelacemoon/pseuds/purplelacemoon
Summary: Traditions always find their way back to us in the end





	Dance Again

**Author's Note:**

> So I actually first wanted to write this story right back at the end of 2016 when I kept hearing [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZR_NHCnymzQ) (it's a kinda religious song but I've always liked it) and I kept thinking it fit Hillary pretty perfectly back then during that time but I could never actually bring myself to write it. But then today that cute as hell picture of them dancing finally pushed me to do it and give it what is hopefully a better ending than I originally planned!
> 
> (also - I've literally never posted a story on the same day as writing it because I always like to proof read things a million times and sleep on ideas and come back to them but I wanted to post this while that picture was still fresh in all our minds so hopefully this doesn't come across as too rushed or totally terrible!)

[“I hope you dance, especially today.” - @BillClinton](https://twitter.com/BillClinton/status/566585861546856448?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw%7Ctwcamp%5Etweetembed%7Ctwterm%5E566585861546856448&ref_url=https%3A%2F%2Fabc13.com%2Fnews%2Fvideo-bill-clinton-shows-his-softer-side-this-valentines-day%2F517561%2F)

 

**_Valentine's Day, 2017_ **

Hillary scrolled past the tweet on her phone, an old video retweeted back onto her timeline by a group of supporters exactly two years later to the date. _2015._ She let out a soft weary exhale reading the year and her eyes glazed over with nostalgia as she thought back. _Right before all of this began again._  
  
She traced her finger tenderly over the familiar figures on the screen; her and her husband, dancing hand in hand without a care in the world as they watched the band then turned inward to face each other, arms slipping around each other’s body so effortlessly as they swayed to the music and whispered like they were the only two in the room.      
  
Two years ago scarcely felt like two minutes, and yet when she looked at the state of the country and the life she was living now in the aftermath of the shock the election had been it felt more like two decades.  
  
They had always danced on Valentine’s Day; it was a tradition they had managed to uphold most years no matter how intensive their schedules became. Although truth be told they danced a lot anyway. Sometimes just alone in the kitchen, with no music and still wearing their bed socks Hillary would be humming or singing while she made the coffee and Bill would slide his hands around her waist and twirl her to face him with a smile. In summers they danced in their backyard, barefoot on the grass and under the stars as the rest of the world melted away into the twilight around them. They danced at parties, at weddings, and of course at the two inaugural balls they had shared together.  
  
It never mattered how many pairs of eyes were on them as they danced, whether it was millions watching across the country, just a couple of people glancing their way at a party or even nobody at all in the privacy of their own house, it always felt like it was just the two of them when they were in each other’s arms.  
  
But this year, whenever Hillary started to get in the mood to have fun again the concept of dancing held a bittersweet notion she just couldn’t shake of the one dance they would never share. _Her inaugural ball_ which was now never to be, and all the painful ramifications that came along with that fact.  
  
Hillary placed her phone on the side table and sighed, getting up and crossing the floor to the kitchen. Bill’s eyes glanced up from the other side of the room and followed her movements from where he was sat with his head in a book and he frowned.  
  
He knew that sigh.  
  
After being together as long as they had he was almost more attuned to her moods than he was to his own. He could read each curve of her lips and the slightest raise of her eyebrows without her ever having to utter a single word, and in times like these when she was more prone to bouts of quiet solitude than he had ever known he was immensely thankful to share that level of connection with her.  
  
He placed his book to one side and went over to where she had discarded her phone, wondering what had drawn that particular reaction from her. He picked it up and his eyes were met with one of his own tweets, a memory close to his heart of the two of them a couple of years ago dancing together to a live rendition of _‘Just The Way You Look Tonight’._  
  
Bill smiled as the music echoed from her phone as it played, but he couldn’t help feeling the same tinge of sadness Hillary had felt that now accompanied it, knowing in hindsight everything that back then neither had any idea still lay ahead for them. For her.    
  
Wanting to leave her phone on something that would make her happy the next time she picked it up, he scrolled further down to her old reply from during the campaign which he still loved, partly because he had been standing right by her side grinning when she had first typed it: “It’s a date!”  
  
Bill replaced the phone and locked it before venturing into the kitchen to find his wife and check she was okay.  
  
He quickly found her tapping her fingers against the counter as she waited for the kettle to boil, the steam fogging up her glasses just a little and warming the kitchen. Watching her in silence for a moment, he glanced up at the time before making his presence known.  
  
“We could go out y’know. It’s not too late yet.”  
  
He noticed the shift in her shoulders as she sighed again, carefully spooning sugar into her steaming mug then stirring it diligently.  
  
“I’d rather stay in. I just don’t think I’m up to dealing with people tonight.” She replaced the lid of the sugar tin without turning around to face him, knowing she didn’t need to clarify what she meant exactly by ‘dealing with people’.  
  
Ever since the election, everyday encounters with people had been anything but ordinary. She was used to people protesting her, yelling their opposition at her motorcade or her back or occasionally even her face. She was used to the whispers and the pointing and endless handshakes and selfies. What she wasn’t sure she would ever get used to was people bursting into tears in front of her, throwing their arms around her like their life depended on it and pouring out their hearts and souls on the spot, staring expectantly and waiting for her to say something that would fix things except she couldn’t.  
  
It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate those encounters. In fact, they meant more to her than she was sure she had ever been able to successfully express in return. They were just simply _exhausting_. And the clearer it became that people were looking to her for guidance, the more it felt to her as though she had let every one of them down.  
  
Shoulders still heavy, Hillary dropped the teaspoon she had used into the sink and waited for her coffee to cool down enough for her to take a sip. The silence in the room was beginning to feel slightly unnerving, and Bill walked over to the windowsill and switched the radio on in the hopes of lifting her spirits and setting the mood for the evening.  
  
As the familiar lilt of music filled the kitchen Bill approached Hillary again. Just as he had done a thousand times before, he slipped his hands around her waist as he swayed to the music only this time she didn’t respond. Instead of completing their usual routine of her swaying her hips along with him, slipping one hand into his as he placed his other along her lower back while she draped her arm around his shoulder with a smile, this time Hillary simply lay her head against his chest and sunk into his embrace and he quickly changed tact and wrapped his arms around her.  
  
She wasn’t crying. Crying wasn’t something she allowed herself to indulge in all that often despite having more than good reason to. But Bill could still feel the weight of the sadness and responsibility she felt pulling down on both of them and he ached to do something for her to help lift it.  
  
They stood there quietly for a moment, neither saying anything as he stroked her hair and she inhaled the comforting scent of his sweater as she nuzzled closer to him.  
  
“We’ll go out again soon.” Her words were muffled against his chest but Bill still heard them.  
  
“Of course we will.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and she pulled back to look at him. “We’ll be out there dancing before you know it.”  
  
Bill did a little wiggle of his hips to prove his point and Hillary finally let out a laugh, the sadness still lingering behind her eyes but their usual blue sparkle still shining through a little stronger. Remembering the tweet she had read earlier, her lips curved into a smirk and she squeezed him back tightly with a nod.  
  
“It’s a date.”

◇◇◇◇

 ** _August, 2018_**  
  
Hillary’s laugh could be heard above the music even from the other side of the wedding party as Bill whispered in her ear and then grinned at her response. He always did love being the one to draw that now infamous laugh out of her. The lighting in the venue was soft and slightly pink, enhancing the golden shine of her hair and the white of her deliciously sheer shirt which Bill had scarcely been able to keep his eyes off all evening, still watching her now as she reached for her glass of wine and brought it up to her lips.  
  
“Come on Billy, let’s dance!” He suddenly felt her hand slip into his as she slid off her chair and up to her feet, dragging him along with her and giving him the same wicked adoring smile he had fallen in love with when they were only in their early twenties; slipping away from a student party to dance by themselves in the dark outside with the blaring music in the distance, the cover of darkness giving them that extra freedom to hold each other that little bit closer and allow their touch to wander that little bit lower.  
  
Just like back then, Bill felt Hillary’s arm rest around his shoulder and he connected their hands as they slowly swayed across the floor, slightly out of time with the music but always completely in time with each other.  
  
“Have I told you how handsome you look in that suit?” Hillary’s hand slid from her husband’s shoulder to the nap of his neck as she stood on the tip of her toes to whisper in his ear.  
  
Bill grinned back at her, lowering his own voice in response although nobody was close enough to hear them above the music.  
  
“Only about as many times as I’ve told you how incredible you look in that shirt.”  
  
Hillary’s cheeks flushed in response and her tongue slipped over her lips before letting out a giggling shriek as Bill spun them around.  
  
Couples all around them were doing just the same as they were, including the couple they had just watched exchange their vows and begin their lives together as husband and wife, but the Clinton's had soon completely forgotten the presence of everyone else. Wrapped in the atmosphere of the music and the comfort of her husband’s arms Hillary lifted her gaze back up to him once again and smiled, love pouring from her sparkling blue eyes right into his as they met hers a moment later.  
  
A lot of things had changed over the decades they had been together, but the way they looked at each other was one thing that never had.  
  
Hillary closed her eyes for a moment as the song started winding down and another one started up. Bill pulled her closer as they moved in rhythm with each other slowly across the dance floor and suddenly he was struck by a memory from not too long ago when a moment like this felt almost unreachable.  
  
This wasn’t the first time they had danced since the election; on the contrary they’d been to parties and shared evenings with friends and had plenty of happy times as Hillary had picked herself back up and begun to heal on a personal level, and they had both thrown themselves back into their life’s work of making a difference in the world in a time where hate and divisions were running deeper than they had ever imagined. But it was the first time Bill had thought back to that day in the kitchen over a year ago now, when all those wounds were still fresh and painful and memories of happier times felt too impossibly distant to ever get back to again.  
  
Yet here they were.    
  
Still whole and still dancing and still just as completely in love and in awe of each other as they had been on the very first day they met. Eyes still locked on each other and fingers intertwined just as they were the first time they had ever danced together, and all the countless times they had done since that had led them to right here and now and would carry them through the rest of the storms and sunshine that lay ahead that they would weather and thrive through together.

 

 

 

> _Your tears will dry,_  
>  _Your heart will mend,_  
>  _Your scars will heal,_  
>    
>  _You will dance again._

 


End file.
